All This and Love, Too
by luna leigh
Summary: A series of vignettes from James Potter's POV. Starting with the beginning of his 7th year, the stories will chronicle the progression of his relationship with Lily Evans & the adventures of his last year at Hogwarts and beyond.


James's nose feels like paper mache that someone has inexpertly slapped onto his face, but at least it isn't bleeding anymore, though there's still blood on his chin and collar. He doesn't dare look at her straight on for fear of laughing, but out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lily's right hand on the chair, the knuckles red and already swollen. A large chunk of skin is missing from one knuckle, a souvenir from his tooth, which he now holds in the palm of his hand. It's still bleeding a little. She flexes her hand absently, making a fist and then slowly releasing the fingers, and he wants to tell her to put ice on it, or essence of myrtle. He's punched Sirius enough times to know how much it can hurt, but he knows the suggestion would probably only serve to get him a black eye to go with his mangled nose and missing tooth.

Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall is pacing in agitation behind her desk. It's a familiar welcome-back-to-Hogwarts scene to James, who has somehow always managed to get at least one detention within the first week of school, but usually with Sirius by his side rather than Lily.

McGonagall stops pacing and places both of her hands on the desk for support, eyeing James and then Lily over the rim of her glasses critically. Her lips are pressed firmly together in a thin line on her face, and James hasn't seen her this angry in some time.

"What am I going to do with you two? You're Head Boy and Girl, in case you've forgotten. _Brawling!_ Like a couple of buffoons!"

James holds up a finger. "Wasn't brawling so much as Lily sucker-punching me."

Air whistles through the space where his tooth should be as he says the letter S, and both women glare at him. McGonagall continues as though James hasn't spoken.

"And you're both Gryffindors! You should know better. Do you know how long it's been since both Heads came from the same house? I could not have been _prouder_ when Dumbledore told me who he had chosen, though I did have my misgivings…" She looks pointedly at James, and it's clear that all her misgivings were about _him_. "But Dumbledore assured me that you were both more than capable of handling the duties. 'But he's too much of a trouble maker', I said. 'He'll be breaking the rules more than upholding them.' But no, Dumbledore said. 'James is exactly the type of person we need in these times. He'll be the kind of leader the students need.'" She imitates this conversation dryly. "And the _first second_ you're off the train…! I'm sure the other students were as shocked as I was at your behavior. They're not used to seeing the Head Boy and Girl _**in a fist fight**.",_ she finishes, her anger growing.

"They're probably not used to seeing the Head Girl be entirely bald either, ma'am," Lily responds, and McGonagall's lip twitches, like she wants to laugh in spite of herself as she looks at Lily, who is indeed completely bald at the moment, the skin of her head shining in the light of the office. If James's heart hadn't already imploded with unrequited love for Lily, this moment would have done it. She's said the right thing at the right time, and somehow her cheek has brought McGonagall to laughter, rather than anger.

McGonagall sits down in her chair, still holding back the smile. She pulls a tin of shortbread cookies from the top of her desk and offers it to both of them. James raises his palm that's holding his tooth and opens his mouth to say that he can't eat one, but then McGonagall is laughing in earnest at the gaping hole between his front tooth and the next, and he decides it's best to say nothing.

She sighs, taking in the sorry sight of both of them. "Alright. Tell me what on earth you could have been thinking."

* * *

 _Earlier that day._

James is standing with Sirius on the train platform, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to arrive and something is wrong. Off. Everywhere the families are huddled in tight groups. Mothers run their hands through their children's hair protectively, impulsively bending to kiss them on the cheek, tighten their scarfs, smooth out wrinkles that don't exist, like they might never get another chance. There's no laughter, no joy. The excitement in the air around the arrival of the train is gone, replaced by naked anxiety, almost fear.

James has spent the summer playing quidditch with Sirius in the backyard, eating the food his mother is always happy to make for them. He has seen the newspaper—the deaths and the disappearances, and he's heard his mother talking with her friends, always in worried whispers. Despite the fact that Sirius has his own flat, paid for with gold from a benevolent uncle, he's spent every weekend of the summer at the Potters. James's mother had said she'd taken one look at the inside of Sirius's flat and that was all it took, but James wonders now if it wasn't more than that, if she'd genuinely feared for his safety, the way all the mothers on the platform are worrying over their children now.

But James is 17, and none of it had connected to him or his life, none of it had been real. Until this moment.

Sheltered, he thinks to himself, standing, waiting for the train. He's been sheltered. For the first time, it bothers him. His own mother has already left. She'd said her goodbyes to the boys quickly and was gone, making them both bend so she could give a hurried kiss to each. James wonders now if she was scared to stay longer. The fact that she is becoming old bothers him deeply. She's fragile now. Something could so easily happen to her. To any of them, really. No wonder she had left so quickly. He feels fiercely protective of her.

And they have it easy, he knows. Purebloods. No danger, not like the muggle-borns…

A girl that James recognizes but doesn't know—maybe a third year?—is sobbing, grasping onto her mother's cloak. He thinks again that it's wrong; people everywhere paralyzed by the fear of what might happen to them and their loved ones. The deaths, the disappearances, the injustices calmly reported, passing across the country from house to house, always in the dark shadows. And no one seems to be _doing_ anything about it. Why aren't they all acting as one against the threat?

He wishes, for perhaps the thousandth time, for his father. To see that happy smile, feel the calm strength in the pat on the back, the reassurance that everything was going to be fine. James knows his father wouldn't have let any of this happen, not without a fight.

But he's gone. Illness, old age. Mortal, just like everyone else.

It has been 6th months since his death, and some of the pain has gone, but not enough. James feels alone and unprepared to be in charge. In charge of his household—in charge of the other students. What could Dumbledore have been thinking, giving him the badge?

"Everyone is so on edge," James says, looking around, feeling stupid and naïve. His shoulders seem to slump in the dour atmosphere.

Sirius nods with a grim expression on his handsome face. His grey eyes are thoughtful, but he doesn't share any of James's surprise. "There were attacks yesterday morning. Muggle-borns."

Involuntarily, James looks through the people waiting for the train to the spot where he knows that Lily Evans is waiting with her Muggle father.

"Wasn't anywhere near Evans," Sirius adds, looking amused, and James whips his head around, away from her direction.

"Who said anything about Evans?"

Sirius gives him a knowing look, but shrugs a moment later, already bored with the topic. He's had all summer to give James grief about the redhead.

And James has had all summer to think about the new Head Girl, about the strange luck that has thrown them together. He'd lied and told Sirius that he didn't know who the Head Girl was, that the letter didn't say, but that was mostly preemptive defense; he's well aware of how many jokes Sirius can invent revolving around the word "Head".

It's his chance, he thinks, maybe his only chance. He's planned out his meeting today with Lily a thousand times over the summer, and the conversation he's planned is guaranteed to show her how mature and humble he's become. And he knows that Lily will fall for it like a ton of gold Galleons; who could resist? It's fool-proof.

But not Sirius-proof, as it turns out.

"How many?" James asks, looking at the families around him again, wondering grimly how many will be gone by this time next year. How many more homes ripped apart?

"Two families," Sirius says succinctly. "I guess someone was trying to send a message."

"What message? Not to come here? Not to send their children to Hogwarts? There's no—that's absurd!" It baffles James, this obsession with blood. It's another naïve thought, but this time he doesn't recognize it. He's a pureblood, blinded by the protection of his status. But the idea that muggle-borns are somehow less than human—it's incomprehensible. It's the Death Eaters who are filth, especially their leader, the one who's behind all of it. The one who no one mentions. It's _them_ , the people using the Dark Arts who needed to be stopped and stamped out, not muggle-borns.

"My mother had something to say about it, of course. Education should be for purebloods only. What a charming woman." Sirius's tone is ironic, but James knows him well enough to see the anger and the shame behind it.

Anger rises up in him too, and he clenches his jaw, feeling a helpless rage. How could anyone look at these children, alight with nerves and excitement, and feel anything but joy. Or pride. Or nostalgia. How could anyone look at children and feel hatred? He'd seen what Sirius's mother had written. It'd angered him then; he can't imagine what it's doing to Sirius.

The train arrives on squeaking wheels, steam hissing and whistle blowing. Despite his bleak thoughts, James feels a familiar jolt of excitement at the idea of his last year at Hogwarts. The bustling activity of the castle, the familiar faces, food whenever he wants, the house competition, and _quidditch_. James grins fondly at the sight of the scarlet engine, dark thoughts hidden again for the moment. He can see that Sirius's lips are curved in a smile too, and he elbows him lightly.

"Come on. Let's find a compartment before I have to meet with the Prefects."

They stow their trunks and walk down the aisle, looking for seats. Congratulations and thumps on the back follow James as he greets friends and classmates. Younger students jump out of the way in reverence or fear, and Sirius throws him a sardonic glance over his shoulder.

"Couldn't wait to get that badge on, could you."

"I have to let the Slytherins know who's in charge this year, don't I?" James says, shooting a menacing look at some 3rd year Slytherins as he says it. He's only half joking. The death-eaters-in-making, the ones who curse muggle-borns in the corridors between classes thinking they can get away with it, all of them are in for a rude awakening, James thinks.

Sirius's mocking is replaced by bright joy. " _Please_ let us run into Snivellus," he says, like a prayer. "I can't wait to see the little slimeball's face once he sees that you're Head Boy." Sirius smiles in quiet satisfaction. It's a nasty smile, retaliation for what his family says, for the state of things, for everything he has no control over.

They walk into an empty compartment and Sirius sits down, lounging on the seat. His long legs are propped against the seat across from him and James can tell by the smile that he's still thinking of ways to torment Snape.

"Congrats, Prongs!" Remus Lupin says from the doorway, looking happy. Peter, a head shorter, is just behind him. "I'm just relieved it wasn't me. Maybe _you'll_ have better luck keeping yourself in line," Lupin says, laughing. Peter shakes James's hand, echoing Lupin's congratulations.

"Those Slytherins: Mulciber, Avery, they're all up at the front. I heard them talking about jinxing first years," Peter says, looking worriedly from James to Sirius to Lupin.

"I'd like to see them try," he says menacingly. With his dark mood, he's more than happy to deal with them. He'll jinx them on his way to the Prefects compartment with Lupin, once the train starts moving again. Preemptively, if necessary, just to show them what he thinks of them. But for now, just for a few minutes, he's happy to enjoy the company of his friends, with all thoughts of the dark times and the deaths and what's to come in the future far from his mind. Peter, laughing and laughing as Sirius recounts stories of his exploits with his dim-witted landlord over the summer. Lupin smiling in spite of himself, looking tired but happy to be among his friends. James knows that it can't have been easy for Lupin over the summer, and so he's silently relieved to see his friend safe again, in one piece, and on the way to Hogwarts. When would the moon be full again? When would be their next adventure?

As Sirius and Peter start a game of exploding snap, James puts on his robes, trying not to look too eager to start his duties. He knows Sirius will laugh if he looks like he cares too much about his new position. But really, it is nice—the power that the position affords him. He knows he can't really abuse it, Dumbledore would never allow that, and more than anything, he doesn't want to disappoint Dumbledore. But still, this is his first time in charge of the other students and he plans to enjoy himself. And maybe catch a moment with Lily, wherever she is.

* * *

"How are those Slytherins looking?" Sirius asks as James re-enters the compartment. The train is about to arrive at the school. James is just grateful that Sirius has forgotten to ask who the Head Girl is. There's no way he could pretend he doesn't know now.

"Not so hot, to tell you the truth. I don't think they'll be jinxing anyone anytime soon. Had to help Snivellus wash his hair, too. Dirty git."

Sirius barks a laugh in approval, and the train begins to slow. James's heart, on the other hand, picks up speed. This is it.

Lily had been there in the Prefects' compartment. Indeed, she'd done almost all of the talking, but there hadn't been any time to interact with her. No time for a personal conversation. Their instructions to the younger students hadn't taken more than a few minutes, and then she had strolled out, giving him nothing more than a polite nod as she passed.

If she'd been patrolling the train corridors too, he hadn't seen her, though of course he'd been busy with Mulciber and the others, coming back from patrolling every so often for a chocolate frog or a pumpkin pasty with his friends.

But he knows that it's the Heads' job to gather together the first years and send them on their way to Hagrid and the lake. The two of them will be some of the last students to leave for the castle, and he'll have a whole carriage ride with her. It will be the first time that he's really talked her in months, the first time since he's been made Head Boy. He resists the urge to run his hand the wrong way through his hair as they step off the train. Don't be a prat, he thinks to himself over and over, like a mantra.

"I can't wait to see who the poor Head Girl is who has to work with _you_ , Prongs." Sirius says, grinning wickedly. So much for forgetting.

"First years, this way," he calls, ignoring Sirius. "Just go toward that big bloke; you can't miss him." He's half-heartedly helping first years but mostly looking for Lily. Trying to look nonchalant, handsome, in-charge. "First years!" he calls again, ushering a tiny student toward Hagrid, who's waving by the end of the train, even at a distance looking much larger than any man should.

And then James sees her, with her hand on the shoulder of a small boy. She's smiling kindly and pointing him toward the end of the train. He notices for the second time that her hair is longer than it was, and she looks paler than he remembers. As Lily looks up, he sees the resigned and wary smile form across her face at the sight of him leading first years to Hagrid and he starts to smile back.

Sirius punches him _hard_ on his shoulder. "It's Evans," he hisses with glee. "You _liar_. You knew the whole time it was Evans."

"Shut up," James says through his teeth, his shoulder smarting, painfully aware that Lily is close enough now to hear everything they say and that whatever Sirius is about to come up with will be deeply inappropriate. Maybe it had been a mistake to keep the information from him.

"Oh, are you afraid she's going to put you in detention?" Sirius asks loudly, laughing and moving deftly out of James's reach so that he's almost directly behind Lily where she can't see him. He points at James and mimes ruffling his hair, doing a cruel but accurate impression. James's fist clenches, and he reaches for his wand from inside his robe, wanting to hex that stupid smile right off his friend's face, his temper boiling at Sirius for ruining this moment.

"Why, what's he done now?" Lily asks with suspicion, all signs of a smile gone from her face, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Just jinxed some Slytherins. But don't worry, they _definitely_ deserved it." Sirius pretends to be solemn as he says this, but his laughing eyes give it away.

"What? When? On the train?" Lily exclaims angrily, turning her head briefly to look at Sirius behind her before rounding on James. "You're Head Boy!"

"I—" James opens his mouth to defend himself, but Sirius cuts him off.

"Evans, I think he deserves a detention. You should give him Head…Boy instructions. Teach him what's what." The pause is subtle, but James catches it. Not subtle is the lewd act that Sirius mimes behind Lily's back, and James blushes, finally losing his temper with Sirius, who's clearly laughing at James and his discomfort, reveling in the mischief he's making.

"I can't believe you," Lily says, disappointment written clearly across her face, but James, who's in the middle of sending a silent jinx toward Sirius with a swish of his wand at his side, barely hears her.

Sirius has known James for far too long to be surprised by his reaction, and he deflects the spell with a lazy flick of his wrist, accidentally bouncing it right into the back of Lily's head, which is suddenly shiny and totally hairless. The spell, which was meant to get back at Sirius for his jab about James's hair, has made Lily completely bald.

Sirius lets out a guff of surprised laughter and within moments he's doubled over with the force of it. James stares, horror stricken. Had it been anyone except Lily, James would have been bent over in stitches as well. But as it is, he lets out only a small chuckle of nervous laughter, which he regrets immediately as Lily feels the top of her head and then turns on him, inarticulate with rage. Peter is laughing too now at Sirius's side, and more people turn to look at the commotion. The laughter around them grows.

It i _s_ funny, in a grotesque sort of way. Lily, seeing her reflection in the windows of the train, turns a murderous shade of red. She's slowly shaking her head back and forth as though searching for something bad enough to say to him. James holds both his hands up, but he can't hold back the wild urge to laugh. She sees his laughter, and with two swift steps, she closes the distance between them, her fist connecting squarely with James's nose and mouth. He feels a burst of pain and staggers, falling backwards over his own feet. His eyes water uncontrollably, and he spits out his front tooth into his hand, the blood everywhere and messy.

Lily is still angry, but she's distracted by the pain in her hand. She's never hit anyone before, and she shakes her fingers, trying to regain feeling. She looks slightly taken aback with herself. "Ow! I—you—"

"She knocked your tooth out, Prongs!" Sirius is still laughing as he says it, and Lily turns to him, this time clear headed, pulling out her wand and pointing it at his chest. Sirius's eyes widen briefly, but then he smiles slowly, the laughter lighting up his features.

"Go ahead, Evans."

There's a very long pause as Lily contemplates his smile. The small crowd around them waits in anticipation. Her own expression is unreadable. She's still bald, red with exertion and anger, but slowly, she smiles back. "You're not worth it, Black" she says condescendingly, lowering her wand. His smile only grows. Before he can say anything, a figure pushes to the center where they stand.

"What is going on here?" McGonagall asks in outrage, arriving to the scene. It is a note of the times that the teachers are there at Hogsmeade when the students arrive, rather than waiting up at the castle, making sure everyone arrives safely.

She looks from James, who has just scrambled to his feet, face covered in blood, to Lily, whose face changes quickly to a look of chagrin, her fist obviously the cause of James's injury.

"Everyone else, make their way to the carriages," she says in a voice that carries. The students reluctantly begin to leave the scene, including Sirius. "You two." She points at James and Lily, looking grim. "Come with me."

* * *

"Professor, it was me. It was all my fault," James says hurriedly, trying to finish before Lily can say anything. "I know I shouldn't have cast that jinx. It was just Sirius—he—well…Anyway, I deserve full punishment. Whatever you think is necessary. I should have known better as Head Boy, and this is the last time you'll find me in a situation like this. But Evans, Lily—she didn't do anything. The spell rebounded and hit her. She was just in the wrong place." James hopes his conciliatory tone will do the trick. He puts on his most innocent expression. He's found that he can't look at Lily without laughing, so he stares straight ahead at McGonagall, who does not look impressed.

"And I suppose you hit yourself in the face, did you? No, you'll both have to serve detention for this. Saturday morning. This was deeply inappropriate behavior for the Head Boy and Girl, no matter what Sirius Black did to provoke you," she says, looking at James knowingly. "And next time, it will be your badge, understood?" She looks stern, and they both nod quickly.

"Yes ma'am," Lily says quietly. "It won't happen again."

McGonagall is brisk now. "Both of you head to the hospital wing for your injuries." She looks from Lily's hand to James's tooth, a twitch in her expression again. "No doubt you'll be mended with enough time to rejoin the feast. I expect you to help the Prefects when the feast is finished."

* * *

Leaving the hospital wing, Lily is several paces in front of him. She hasn't said a single word to him. Hasn't even looked at him. And he knows it isn't because _she_ wants to laugh at the sight of him. Of all the many scenarios he'd imagined, none of them had ended so poorly. James jogs a few steps forward to catch up with her.

"Listen, Lily—"

She whirls around to face him, hands on her hips, her hair long and red again. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen. Padfoot—you couldn't see him, but he deserved it. He—"

"I can imagine, Potter," she interrupts, rolling her eyes, but she looks a little less angry knowing that he had been trying to defend her.

She gives James an appraising look as they walk. "I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, making you Head Boy." Her tone is serious, thoughtful. At this moment, James wholeheartedly agrees. "But the students need someone they can respect. Who respects them. It's bad enough for them at home, with what's happening out in the world…they don't need to be bullied here, too." She looks upset, worried, and James feels guilt pool in the pit of his stomach.

"I know. I'm going to do my best. I want them to feel safe here. Everyone deserves that. I won't let them be bullied. Those Slytherins on the train-they were going to pick on first years half their size. It wasn't fair. That's the only reason I jinxed them." Not totally true; he thinks. He'd jinxed them because they were death eaters in the making, but he isn't going to tell her that.

A sad smile plays at her lips. She seems to be contemplating the idea of James protecting others from bullies. "I still don't think it was _right_ ," she says. "But, I do understand your urge to do it. But there are other ways to make a point, you know." He nods, and she looks slightly mollified.

"I really did mean it when I said I was sorry," he says earnestly. "I didn't mean for you to get detention, or to make you look bad, or for you to hurt your hand." Or any of it. What an ass he's made of himself.

Lily lets out a surprised laugh. "You're sorry I hurt my hand? Punching you in the face?"

James smiles at the sound of her laughter, and she laughs again. "Look, _I'm_ sorry I lost my temper. I've never hit anyone before. That wasn't very kind of me. I deserve that detention as much as you do. With everything that's going on, I guess I was just a little wound up today. After what happened to those families yesterday…" She trails off, looking both remorseful and deeply sad, and he wants to say that he understands, that he feels the same way too, but doesn't know how. He can't find the right words; the conversation with her he'd planned in his imagination is totally useless.

They walk in silence, but after a moment her expression shifts, and she looks at him, eyes glinting playfully. "Although, it was pretty satisfying, I have to admit. Punching you." She looks down, flexing her newly mended hand. "I've wanted to do that for about 5 years." She's grinning as she says it, her green eyes laughing. She's teasing him now, and they've reached the doors to the great hall.

"Maybe not in the face, next time?"

She turns to open the doors, but throws him a glance over her shoulder. "I can't make any promises. See you in detention, Potter."


End file.
